


maelstrom

by sugandt



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: Character Study, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Tales of Berseria, Pre-Tales of Zestiria, Relationship Study, Tales of Berseria Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-16 02:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugandt/pseuds/sugandt
Summary: Eizen is an unpredictable sea, and Zaveid is a hurricane. They do not see each other often.A look into Zaveid and Eizen's indistinguishable relationship.





	maelstrom

**Author's Note:**

> me, trying desperately to write a fic that is not angsty, and yet coming out with... this. 
> 
> sort of au, probably ooc, i'm not sure what it is.

Eizen is a tumultuous and unpredictable sea, and Zaveid is a hurricane.  
  
They do not see each other often. 

Sometimes it’s five years, sometimes ten. Sometimes it’s just a few months. Once it’s a little over a century, and Zaveid has completely changed, but he’s always the same. Same white-green hair that’s braided or tied back, same stupid boots that Eizen hates so much, same white tattoos that never end. Same Siegfried, same lazy saunter, same I-go-where-the-wind-takes-me attitude. Same Zaveid. Maybe. 

And truthfully, neither of them ever know what to expect. Whether to talk, whether to drink, whether to kiss for hours and part ways without so much as a goodbye, whether to strip against a tree as Zaveid’s back gets torn up from the bark, bleeding and baring his teeth in a grimace while Eizen keeps fucking him until he’s spent. He’s still got a scar from that one, peeking just over his shoulder. 

Somehow they had become more than the closest of friends, though not exactly lovers. A piece of Zaveid wants to change that. He’s tired of parting. 

Zaveid has taken quite a liking to Stonebury-- Lastonbell, now-- and often finds himself chatting with the locals, smooth-talking his way into getting a free drink or two. Not caring much for the effects, he simply liked interacting with humans who could see him, the responses to his advances even more so. He plays with his pendulums, now, acting as if he can’t sense Eizen nearby, as if he can’t fucking smell him. 

He stays inside until Eizen decides it’s dark enough to come in, made Zaveid wait long enough. Eizen doesn’t order anything yet but pulls up a chair to sit across from Zaveid, a smug grin pulling at his lips. It’s a little unusual for them to meet somewhere that is not Loegres, in tucked away shops and inexpensive inns. From Loegres, it is easiest to board the Van Eltia, or visit Aball to... pay their respects? But when they part, Zaveid always returns to a certain beach’s village, holding onto the hope that Eizen will already be there, waiting for him. 

 When they see each other for the first time, it’s always a “you look good,” or “what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” or “I thought I might find you around here.” 

“You look like you miss me,” says Eizen. That’s a new one. 

“Not any more than you miss me,” Zaveid gives his own smirk and pockets his pendulums. He leans back in his seat, getting a good look at his counterpart. They fall into this rhythm so naturally; it’s easy, with Eizen. 

Benwick had found remnants of a village in the most beautiful part of the world, crystal clear waters and the sweetest fruit, and left it all for the taking. He temporarily assumed the role of first mate, while Eizen and Zaveid had spent upwards of a year together. Everything was so simple. Easy. One would think it was lonely, but Zaveid never felt that way, even when it was just the two of them. When Eizen told him he had to go, he was a pirate at heart, an adventurer who could not be tied down by the land, Zaveid swallowed the words he wished so badly to say. And then Eizen was gone, and Zaveid was alone again. 

_I want you to stay with me. I miss us. I’m happiest with you._

Years ago, at that same beach, they were perched upon a jagged rock that stuck out into the sea, a few meters above the water. Eizen’s crew had brought back a new fishing pole from a faraway island for him to try, and Zaveid, with his head in the clouds, asked the question that was weighing on his mind. 

“What ever happened to them?” 

“Who?” Something happened to the line. Eizen, instead of picking it up, bent down to inspect it. 

“Your band of misfits,” Zaveid watched as Eizen laughed, albeit humorlessly. Nothing good, he thought. 

So Eizen told him. About Crowe and Hume and Rangetsu; one died, one’s likely dead, one’s probably still kicking somewhere out there. Magilou wreaked havoc across the continent, and Phi…  well, Eizen’s still not so sure. He knew that Eizen loved them, but the split was inevitable. Velvet and Phi were the glue that held them all together, and without them, the remaining four all went crawling back from where they came. With the way Eizen’s gaze cast itself to the horizon, Zaveid didn’t need to ask to know that Eizen, not unlike himself, had his regrets. 

But Zaveid has emptied his eyes of his own regrets, his Theodora shaped tears, yelling and weeping and shaking in Eizen’s iron grasp until he calmed down enough to thank him. How odd it is to thank the man that ended Theodora and watched as her dragon form disintegrated, nothing left but a pile of smouldering, purple ash. He watched silently as Eizen dug a new hole beside Celica and Laphi’s graves, throwing what little pieces of Velvet he had left in, only to fill it again, pink Princessia flowers placed beside a makeshift headstone. She’s not dead, not really, she’s out there somewhere in the cosmos, but still dead enough that it counts. 

“I loved her,” Eizen said. At this, Zaveid laughed, a deep rumble from the heart of his chest and he truly thought it was hilarious. Of course, Eizen had loved Velvet! As if he did not make it incredibly obvious. 

“I know you did, idiot.” 

Back in the present, Zaveid feels Eizen’s ankle brush against his own, then up his calf. He cocks an eyebrow. The room smells like smoke from the fireplace and cool air and wood that has been in the humidity for a bit too long, but he can only smell Eizen. He always smells like this, a bit leathery and a bit salty, and the scent, so familiar, draws Zaveid in. How could he ever refuse Eizen?

“Been a long time,” Eizen comments, then reaches over to wrap his fingers around Zaveid’s drink and down the rest of it for himself. 

“Too long,” Zaveid agrees, “what’s happening in Eizen’s world?” 

“My world?” Eizen questions, striking blue eyes boring into Zaveid’s, “I’m beginning to think we’ve found the edge of the map.” 

“So what are you doing here?“ the corner of Zaveid’s lips raises in a flirtatious grin; he’s trying to play it cool but his body is warm all over, “Instead of making sure that you have found the edge?"

Part of Zaveid wants Eizen to say something sweet, romantic even. _I suppose I’m coming home. I wanted to see where you have been._

_You say you go where the wind takes you, but it took me to you._

Eizen, quiet for a moment, lets his gaze drop. How was it possible to reach the end of the world? An unlucky instance of his curse, a white hot pain in his eyes and spine. Most just injured but some winding up dead. His fault, his fault, his fault.  

“It’s not your fault,” Zaveid says, matter-of-fact, “You didn’t ask for this cross to bear.”

Eizen agrees, the cards a hand through his hair. But still, how could they have discovered everything? Already? 

Zaveid does not particularly care for chasing this sort of adventure, preferring those of leather boots and a black-caped pirate. But he knows Eizen does care, and consoling him will take longer than a night. So he takes Eizen’s hand into his own, something they rarely do— it doesn’t suit either of them and makes them acutely aware of how indistinguishable their relationship is— and takes him to the quietest spot in Lastonbell.  

Firelight. Long shadows and a deep orange glow. Dead of night. Eizen’s hands, ungloved and practised, peel Zaveid’s jacket from his torso. Tattoos everywhere, white and juxtaposing against his tan skin. Eizen wants— needs— to have a taste, so he brings his lips to Zaveid’s collarbone, one of his favourite places on Zaveid’s body. Zaveid’s own fingers knot in Eizen’s hair at the nape of his neck where it’s long and soft and golden and he—

“Eizen.” 

Eizen stops. Looks up, demure but also confused. 

“What is it?”

Unspoken, they both know something awful is coming. A catastrophic event that Zaveid feels— knows— will rip Eizen away from him in a way he hadn't felt before. Perhaps in a hundred years, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps when Eizen finally returns to the Van Eltia with his head no longer hung in shame. 

_I don’t want to lose you._

Truth be told, Eizen always thought about Zaveid. He felt him in everything. The wind in his sails and the salty sea breeze. When he would step off the Van Eltia on a new island and the hot sand would warm his boots. The softness of his sheets in the captain’s quarters. When he should have felt Aifread, he always felt Zaveid. 

“How long will you stay?” 

“A while,” says Eizen, and that’s enough to satisfy Zaveid for now. Zaveid tilts Eizen’s chin up with a finger, leaning down to catch him in a kiss, slow yet desperate and Eizen missed him more than he thought he did. Eizen’s teeth catch Zaveid’s bottom lip, plush, and a gust of cold air finds its way around them, gone as quickly as it came.  
  
“Sorry,” Zaveid murmurs in between the kiss. 

Eizen doesn’t bother opening his eyes as he asks Zaveid, “How long have you waited?”

“Only you,” is Zaveid’s answer. 

_Nothing compares to you._

Eizen doesn’t have to ask any more. 


End file.
